Once Bitten
by Julia456
Summary: A re-imagined "Old Friend New Enemy". Same plot, same snakes, but now with eighty percent more angst!
1. inbound

**Note:** This is a "re-imagined" version of the Season 2 episode "Old Friend New Enemy", which I swear has the lamest title in the world. Seriously - a mad scientist turns into a giant snake monster, and the best they can come up with is _that_? (Not that "Once Bitten" is so incredibly creative, but whatever - at least you know there's a snake.) I posted this elsewhere last year, but totally forgot to put it up here. Oops.

For Blackrose, who asked for some angst. Oh, man, did you get your angst. ;)

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NOW

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_Jefferson Smith gets the med team scrambled and to the hangar just as the Hawk touches down._

_The normal organized chaos of the hangar has been shoved to the side for the emergency inbound. It's still full of noise and the burned-in stink of oil and ozone – but the main deck is clear._

_The Hawk's canopy opens – it's on fly-by-wire, a bad sign – and three members of the team clamber up onto the wings, ignoring the hot metal and hotter engines. It will take, on average, two hours until the engines are cool to the touch. They don't have half that long._

_In the rear seat of the jet is their patient. She's strapped into the harness; no remote-open for that. Looks unconscious. Pale and sheened with heavy sweat._

_One of the medics checks her pulse and respiration. The other two try to get her harness off so they can transfer her to the gurney waiting on the deck._

_Problem. She's slumped forward against the harness. Her weight engages the safety failsafe. It won't unlock._

_"It's jammed!" the medic calls down._

_"Cut it!" comes the reply, crisp and curt._

_A laser pen is tossed up. The medic catches it, cuts through the tough polycarb straps. Their patient groans and comes to when they lift her from the plane._

_"Max," she says. Mumbles. Her speech is slurred, tough to understand._

_"It's okay," one of the medics says. "You're okay."_

_She isn't._

_"Sorry," she mumble-slurs. "Stupid…"_

_She's spiked a fever, can't coordinate her limbs. Her eyes – they check when she's on the gurney – aren't dilating properly._

_"What happened?" the lead medic asks. There wasn't time for a briefing. There was barely time to alert the team, prep sickbay, get to the hangar._

_Jefferson looks at the agent on the gurney: feverish, incoherent, sweating. He knows that less than twenty minutes ago she was walking and talking normally. He knows that she's running out of time already._

_"Snakebite," he says._


	2. consequences

EARLIER

.

"So who's this loser again?"

Max glanced over his shoulder, throwing his partner a dirty look even though he knew the seat would block it. "Dr. David Klimo – you didn't read his jacket?"

Kat made an indignant noise. "Duh - of course I did. One of N-Tek's brain guys who went mad scientist. Jefferson cut him loose after he started building bioweapons in his spare time, and now he plays Unabomber down on his farm. What I meant was – who is he to you?"

He sighed – not out loud. "My Little League coach."

Snickering from the backseat. "Little League? Classic, Steel."

"I haven't seen him since I was eight," Max said, more sharply than he should have.

"Feeling guilty about that?"

"He's a bioterrorist. He's one of the bad guys. And yeah, it makes me sad, but not _that_ sad."

"You should be coming up on the coordinates," Berto put in over the Hawk's comm, much to Max's relief.

"I see it. Switching to stealth mode." Max banked the jet and dropped speed as they approached the long, low structure of the barn that dominated the farm site. "No sign of activity outside. Remember, Kat, we're just here to take Klimo into custody and sweep the place for anything that might jump out and bite the evidence teams."

"If Klimo still likes snakes as much as he used to, _jump out and bite_ might not be a figure of speech," Berto warned.

"Relax, Martinez, we've got this," Kat said with her usual wry nonchalance. "Even if some of us feel _really bad_ about the mad scientist."

"I'm not emotionally compromised," Max shot back, irritated because he knew she was right. Dr. Klimo had come along in those unsteady years after his biological father had died and he had been taken in by Jeff. He'd loved Jeff like the man really was his father – still did, of course – but Jeff wasn't much for sports. Coach David had filled that void. "Dad wouldn't have put me on the mission if I was."

"Yeah… or _maybe_ he put you on the mission because he only has one nano-charged super-agent to throw at Frankenstein's lab."

Max maneuvered the jet over the south end of the barn. "If you're done questioning your boss – I'm setting us down."

He didn't actually set them down; there was no way a barn roof could support the weight of a Hawk jet. Instead, he brought it as close to the slanted surface as possible and switched it into auto hover.

Open the canopy, a quick pop of the seat's harness, and he was landing lightly on the shingles. Kat landed right beside him. Despite the biohazard aspect of this mission, she was wearing no more than her standard gear: blank tank, black leather pants, black boots, black belt with miscellaneous equipment. There'd been a fight about that back at N-Tek, but Kat, being Kat, had insisted, and – being Kat – she'd won.

Now she pulled out a laser pen from her belt and sliced a crisp circle through the roof. "After you," she said, clicking the pen off and stowing it again.

Max gave her a mock half-bow, looked carefully at the barn with his infrared vision. There was no one moving inside, and the floor wasn't too far for a safe jump. He flashed a thumbs-up to Kat and dropped inside.

She followed, and they paused for a minute, waiting to see if their entry had been detected, and also letting their eyes adjust to the dim light. They seemed to be in a part of the barn that Klimo didn't use much; there were dusty crates and stacks of shrouded equipment everywhere.

Kat nudged him and pointed toward a steel door that looked badly out of place in a barn. "What do you think?" she asked in a whisper.

"I'm gonna pick Door Number 1," he whispered back. The door was locked, but a brief nano-powered tug on the handle took care of that.

Once Kat was in position, he nodded to her and opened the door.

In a second, they went from dark and dusty to bright and nasty.

Behind the door was a laboratory, all hard, reflective metal and ruthlessly sanitized surfaces. Mesh cages housing unhappy furry things lined one wall. Another was covered with glass tanks, some aquariums, mostly terrariums. Ugly fish and huge spiders seemed to be popular tank-fillers.

But the most popular were snakes. There were a _lot_ of snakes.

"Whatever happened to farms with chickens and cows and prize-winning pumpkins?" Kat said under her breath. She sounded more than a little creeped out. Max was with her on that.

"You getting all this, bro?" he asked.

"Oh yeah," Berto said over the biolink. "Keep an eye out for loose specimens."

"Thanks for the cheery thought," Max muttered. He paused to tap on the glass of a terrarium. The snake inside reared and darted its head, fangs out, at his finger. Max yanked his hand away, spooked even though he knew there was a barrier between them. "And we're sure I'm immune to venom?"

"The nanoprobes went ten-for-ten in every clinical test."

That wasn't quite the reassuring answer Max was hoping for, but he accepted it. He motioned to Kat and they eased towards the other door in the lab – the one his infrared showed wasn't a closet.

Max caught his partner's eye and nodded in the direction of the door. "Someone's in there," he said, barely audible.

Kat grinned, mischievous and predatory all at once. "Let's go make friends."

Max opened the door (no nano-strength required this time), and they stepped through into the largest room they'd seen yet. More than half of the floor space was taken up by enormous cylindrical containers and the labyrinth of pipes and conduits connecting them.

Tucked in between two of the tanks was a worktable. Sitting on a stool in front of it, hunched over, was Dr. David Klimo.

The doc had seen better days. His skin had a pale, sickly gray pallor, and he was sweating heavily. Lying discarded on the worktable and the floor were multiple glass ampules, all of them empty. He was trying to load another ampule into some kind of gun, but his hands were shaking so badly that he kept fumbling it.

Max felt a flash of pain for the man he'd looked up to, once upon a time. If that version of David Klimo had ever been real… it made this moment even worse.

Klimo finally got the ampule loaded, and Max made a judgment call. He and Kat were too far away to make a move on the scientist, especially with God-knew-what in that dosage gun. And they couldn't wait any longer, in case Klimo was going to do something bad.

"Dr. Klimo!" he said, loud and sharp.

Klimo's whole body twitched, but he didn't turn to face them. "N-Tek," he said, bitterness creasing his words. "I knew eventually you'd try to interfere. You can't understand the importance of my experiments – no one can!"

Kat took a step forward and said scornfully, "Save the 'misunderstood genius' rap for your trial, pal."

Max was looking at the gun in Klimo's unsteady hands. "Time to come along quietly, doctor."

Klimo raised the gun, finger on the trigger – "No! – I will never leave my work –"

- and aimed it at his own neck.

Desperate, Max called, "Doctor, let's talk about this!"

Even as he said it, he knew it was too late: Klimo pulled the trigger, and whatever was inside the little glass vial was injected straight into the blood vessels of his neck.

Max leaped forward. "No!"

Klimo's face turned purple and his eyes rolled back into his head. The gun dropped from his hand and clattered across the floor; the glass ampule shattered. He began spasming in an apparent seizure and toppled off of the stool, arms flailing, knocking most of the equipment on the worktable onto the floor.

Max caught him and held on, because he didn't know what else to do.

White foam appeared around Klimo's mouth. He made a gagging, choking sound and went abruptly slack.

Max rose and stumbled back, stunned and horrified. This was not what was supposed to happen. They'd come here to arrest Klimo, to bring him to justice… And instead they'd killed him.

Kat knelt down beside Klimo's body, feeling for a pulse and coming up empty. She stood, looking stricken. "Harsh."

Max had to turn away. "Sorry, _hermano_," Berto said in his ear.

Kat put a hand on his shoulder, which he appreciated, but didn't try to make an excuse or make him feel better, which he appreciated even more. He briefly put his hand over hers, then stepped away. "Berto, tell Dad to go ahead and send in the evidence guys. They can't prosecute Klimo now, but maybe they can find out who was funding him."

"Meanwhile, we'll secure the rest of the site," Kat said, jerking a thumb in the direction of the barn they hadn't explored yet.

Max took point. It didn't seem right to just leave Klimo's body, but at the same time he had no idea what else to do with it, and they _did_ need to finish their job.

There were no other surprises lurking in the barn. They found an office that looked like it had narrowly survived a paper blizzard, another lab – this one set up for necropsies – and a lot of cobwebbed corners. In the office, Berto talked them through connecting Klimo's computers to N-Tek's.

"Okay, I'm getting his data now," Berto said. "And the evidence team is ten minutes out. They, um, they have a medical examiner with them."

Max sighed. "All right. We'll go wait for them, I guess."

They returned to the big center room, with its collection of tanks and Klimo's body.

Kat rapped on one of the tanks. It echoed hollowly, obviously empty. "What do you think he used these for?"

"I don't know," Max said, "and I don't think I want to know."

She made a huffing noise in agreement – and then they both came to a screeching halt.

Dr. David Klimo was sitting up. Breathing.

Alive.

Well… sort of.

He didn't look like himself anymore. His skin was a mottled green-brown, with a scaly texture, and there was a bizarre, rope-like appearance to his musculature. His face had flattened – only the hint of a nose, and eyes that were preternaturally large. No lips, just a slit for a mouth, and no hair; just reddish, ropy protrusions.

He looked like a half-snake monster.

Max had a sudden sick feeling that he knew exactly what Klimo had been doing with that injection gun.

"Whoa," Kat said, voice low and shocked. "Dr. Klimo and Mr. Hyde."

Max shook off his own astonishment. "Uh, bro?"

Berto was typing furiously; Max could hear the keys clicking in rapid-fire. "This never came up in Microbiology! Uh - whatever he injected himself with has somehow mutated his cells!"

Klimo looked down at his hands, which were covered in the same ropy, scaly skin as the rest of his body, and now tipped with claws as well. "What – hasss happened to me?" he said – a rasp rather than a proper hiss. It was an inhuman sound that perfectly complimented his inhuman look.

And his inhuman (or just deranged) mind, which became more apparent as he raised his arms in triumph, proclaiming fiercely, "It'sss a _miracle_!"

Kat said, "At least he has a positive attitude."

Klimo's head snapped up, and his large yellow eyes narrowed. He seemed to see them for the first time – and he didn't seem to be happy about it.

He made a gutteral, hissing snarl, and leapt at them.

Max said, "Then again-"

Kat fired a line from her wrist grapple into the barn rafters, and yanked herself up, clear of Klimo's reach.

Max dove behind the first row of tanks and tried to remember if snakes had infrared vision. He decided to use his, regardless, to avoid sticking his head out.

But the attack was over. Klimo had paused in the middle of the floor, holding up his hands again, visibly marveling at himself. "Each hasss a mind of itsss own, but they're all sssaying the sssame thing: the world is _oursss_!"

Max knew from experience that a ranting bad guy was a distracted bad guy. He switched into turbo mode and uprooted one of the metal tanks, then turned it in his hands and popped it down over Klimo's head. It made a satisfying thunk.

He came out of turbo, dusting off his hands and feeling pleased with himself. Klimo was caught, without injury to anyone. Well, okay – some injury to Klimo; he _was_ a snake monster now. But Max had faith that Berto, Yevshenko, and the rest of the N-Tek brain trust could fix that.

Kat released her line and landed on the top. "One in the can," she said, grinning. The expression vanished into a startled "Whoa!" in the next second as Klimo punched the tank, rocking it from side to side. She lost her balance and backflipped safely to the floor.

But safety there was short-lived. Klimo punched through the metal wall of the tank, then somehow lifted it over his head and threw it, hard, at the two agents.

Max and Kat turned and ran. They slid inside the animal room just as the tank slammed into the door with a deafening boom and enough force to crack the drywall. Some of the cages shuddered and jittered precariously, but none fell.

Klimo dragged the tank aside, presumably to come in after them, but Kat charged out and caught him on the chin with a high jump-kick. He went sprawling across the drainage grate in the center of the floor.

_Strength equal to mine, maybe_, Max thought, _but not the skills_. Despite the transformation, Klimo was still a civilian scientist with limited, if any, fighting experience. That was about the only reassuring thing he could find here.

Kat moved in to press her advantage, with Max right behind her. Klimo lifted a hand –

- a dark, snake-shaped blur darted out at Kat's leg -

- struck at the top edge of her boot -

She jumped back, limping a little. Max took a position beside her, checking quickly to see where the snake was. It slithered up Klimo's arm and behind his shoulder.

"You can't ssslow me, you can't ssstop me!" he spat. "I shall be mankind'sss _demise_!"

Then, as Max watched, Klimo _changed_: the rope-like cords of his body compressed together into a single, long mass as thick around as his waist. The only thing that remained recognizable was Klimo's head, which lunged at them before the transformed scientist whipped around and disappeared down the broken grate.

First things first. Max ignored the bizarreness of a man turning into a giant snake (he'd seen weirder) and turned to Kat, who was already crouched, examining her boot. He crouched down beside her and ran his fingers over the deep gouge in the leather where the snake's fangs had struck. "You okay?"

She tugged her pants leg up and they both looked at the unmarked skin beneath. "Hundred percent," she said, flashing him a thumbs-up and rising again. "Guess we're going down the drain after Snakeman."

"Nuh-uh. Plan B. Bro, better alert Jefferson. We're taking the Hawk." Max set out at a jog for the nearest exit – not the roof, which would require a grappling line.

Kat hustled to stay beside him, giving him an incredulous, "Whatever happened to the _go turbo first and ask questions later_ Max Steel?"

"For every rule, there's an exception."

Berto said, "Kat has a point, Max. Personal feelings –"

"Don't worry," Max said, cutting him off. "I'm all business."

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**Note: ** I replaced Klimo's original method of transformation because it was a little too "railing death" for me. Besides, there is a fine genre tradition of desperate scientists experimenting on themselves; why not add Klimo to the list? ;)


	3. ineffective

NOW

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_"Let's get an IV in."_

_"Patient is twenty-three, no allergies, prior history consists mainly of broken bones and other minor injuries –"_

_"I need an ETA on Dr. Lakhnavi."_

_"BP's 125 over eighty-three and going up."_

_" – one serious compound fracture of the right ulna, distal end, four years ago, listed as sport-related –"_

_"Temperature is 102.3 –"_

_"No, we want twenty cc's of that."_

_"Ah, Lakhnavi's en route, about one minute."_

_"Why isn't he already here? And what's the holdup on the IV?"_

_"Can't find a good vein."_

_"Give it to me, I'll do it -"_

_" – all vaccinations current as of six months ago, no congenital conditions."_

_Jefferson hangs back as the medical team works. He's worried for his agent, of course, but half of his attention is on a memory: the day his son was rushed into the N-Tek sickbay, barely clinging to life._

_Kat has been rushed into sickbay. Kat is barely clinging to life._

_Jefferson refuses to give up hope. But he doubts miracles. _

_And he very much doubts that they happen twice._

_Dr. Lakhnavi arrives. He's an older man, average height, average weight, salt-and-pepper mustache, tired eyes. An expert on venomous snakes, and a medical doctor. Brought in from N-Tek's European branch for this mission. _

_Just in case._

_Lakhnavi pulls on gloves and quickly examines the chart, then Kat. "What species?" he asks._

_Jefferson says, "Unknown. It was from Klimo's lab."_

_Lakhnavi frowns. "We can give her a polyvalent antivenom," he says, "but that won't help if the snake is an exotic, or was genetically altered."_

_"What does that mean?"_

_The doctor opens his mouth to answer, but a sudden staccato beeping from the medical equipment stops him._

_The lead medic says, "She's in respiratory arrest!"_


	4. catch

EARLIER

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Ten minutes into their pursuit of Klimo, Max had to take his hands off the stick; they were shaking. It was a delayed reaction to the adrenaline and the simple horror of what he'd experienced in the barn. Totally normal – but he felt like a failure.

_All business_, he reminded himself.

He flexed his fingers, but the tremors hadn't stopped. "Kat, you wanna take the stick for a minute? I need to, uh, check my energy levels."

"Yeah, sure," she said, and he felt her take control of the jet from the autopilot. "You okay, Steel?"

"Just don't want to run out of juice," he said. She made a noise of general agreement, and he relaxed fractionally. Kat could be a pain in the neck, but she was a great partner when it counted.

"Satellite grid is up," Berto reported over the comm. "Scanning all emergency frequencies. If Biocon is above ground, we'll know it."

Max glanced at the comm, his eyebrows going up despite himself. " 'Biocon'?"

"Short for _biologically altered constricting serpent_," Berto said promptly. "Came up with it myself. What do you think?"

Berto's self-satisfied tone raised Max's hackles, although he couldn't be angry with his friend; for Berto, this really_ was_ just another assignment. He said, half-heartedly teasing, "Can't wait to hear what you name your kids."

Kat didn't quite bite back a snort of laughter. It made Max feel better, although he couldn't have said why. "I'll drive again," he told her.

"About time," she said as she transferred control back to his stick. "The only good thing about being your backseater is getting to chill while you do all the work."

He threw a dirty look she couldn't see. "You know I need the hours."

He was still trying to qualify for_ Behemoth_ and, because they were likely to head back into space someday, for _Phoenix_. Before he could even go through with his quals, however, he had to log a set number of flight hours – no shortcuts, not even for Field Agent Max Steel. And definitely not for Josh McGrath, the boss's kid.

So he'd been monopolizing their transportation lately.

"Aw, don't worry," she said, mocking. "One day you'll be as awesome as I am."

"Yeah, well, a guy can dream."

She snickered again, then said, "Hey, hit the AC – it's like a sauna in here."

One of the many benefits of nanoprobes was having perfectly regulated internal temperature. He hadn't been hot or cold for a long, long time, and sometimes he forgot that normal people were. He checked the instrument panel. "Temp gauge reads a cool seventy-two," he said dubiously.

"Who're you gonna believe, your partner or a thermometer?"

He grinned to himself and dialed down the temperature to sixty-eight.

No sooner had his finger left the instrument panel than Berto came in with, "Newsflash, guys. I just picked up reports of a giant snake hijacking a train headed for Alamogordo."

Kat said drily, "Gee, I wonder if that's_ our _giant snake."

"You can intercept the line outside of Tularosa."

Coordinates popped up on Max's screen, along with a new recommended flight path. "We'll cut 'em off at the pass, pardner," he drawled. "Hi-ho Silver, away!"

"Ugh, please, Steel, ixnay on the Lone Ranger impressions," Kat said.

"You don't like Westerns? That's downright un-American."

She retorted, "I don't remember any evil mutant snakemen in_ The Magnificent Seven_."

"True enough," he admitted, slowing the Hawk over the train until he had matched its speed. It took a moment to maneuver the jet directly in line with the cars, and he knew Kat could've done it both more quickly and more precisely, but he was reasonably pleased with the results.

Going this slow, it was possible to retract the canopy and not have it torn off in a shrieking mass of safety glass and metal. Max did so, then released his harness and toggled the jet to 'remote pilot'. "Mind driving a while, bro?"

"Can do," Berto said cheerfully.

Max stood up, still in the jet, and looked to Kat, who was just getting her harness off.

She stood and immediately sat back down with a dizzy, "Whoa."

He frowned, more amused than concerned. "Since when do you get airsick?"

"Since you started piloting," she retorted, standing again – this time with no difficulty.

"Ouch," he said, pretending to grab his heart in pain. "Seriously – you okay?"

She rolled her eyes with a huff. "Can we quit worrying and start busting snakemen?"

He winked at her, then rappelled down to the train, landing two cars back from the engine. Kat landed right beside him, and they quickly made their way towards the engine, leaping over the gaps between cars.

Max thought he saw a dark, snaky shape slithering around the front of the train. It must have been a lookout, because a heartbeat later, Klimo threw the brakes.

The train didn't stop – trains weren't like cars, they took miles to come to a complete halt when they were at speed – but the sudden deceleration was enough. The train slowed down; Max and Kat didn't. Both of them were thrown forward, off of their feet and towards the front of the train… where they could fall onto the tracks and be killed.

Kat fired her wrist grapple and anchored in. Max was at the wrong angle to fire his, so he made a grab for her free hand. She had had the same idea and was reaching out –

- their fingers missed by less than an inch.

"Max!" she called.

He caught the edge of the engine's front windshield and held on.

Inside, Klimo gave him a narrow-eyed stare, and his lipless mouth stretched open into a horrible parody of a smile. Then Klimo took the brake off and brought the train back up to speed.

_Awesome_, Max thought, trying to get a better hold on the hot metal – now if he lost his grip and fell, he'd be killed that much faster.

He let go with one hand and swung, trying to use the momentum to haul himself up. Too little, too late; Klimo was already climbing through a hatch on the engine's roof less than a yard away. He loomed over Max, hissing, clawed fingers spread.

"Yo! Snake eyes!"

Klimo whipped around to face Kat, who had come up behind him with a taser gun ready.

Her finger moved to fire the weapon – too slowly. Klimo caught her in the abdomen with a fast-but-clumsy kick, and she staggered backwards, losing her balance but (thank goodness) not falling off the train.

Max briefly wondered how a newbie villain like Klimo had gotten the drop on his veteran partner, but now wasn't really the time to pause for deep thoughts. He took advantage of Klimo's distraction and hopped up onto the engine. "Dr. Klimo, please! We can still help you!"

The scientist turned back to Max. "And what makesss you think I _want_ any help? For the firssst time in my life, I feel_ invincible_!" he crowed, hissing the last word, arms upraised.

At the far end of the car, Kat was on her feet again – barely. She had a hand to her head and was visibly struggling to stay upright on the rocking, jittering train car.

"Steel," she said. "Actually – I think – I'm the one who needs help."

And she collapsed backwards, falling into the gap between the cars.

And Max's world stopped.


	5. inaccurate

NOW

.

_One of the medics forces Jefferson out of sickbay. Pushes him backwards, through the door._

_"You can't be in here now, sir," she says, before whirling back to rejoin the others._

_The door hisses shut. Jefferson stands in the hallway and watches through the inset window. _

_The medics put a mask over Kat's mouth and use a bag to breathe for her. Then suddenly Kat coughs and twists sideways, retching. One of the medics leaps back, shaking off their feet. _

_Dr. Lakhnavi gives directions and then comes out into the hallway. "Some of her symptoms are good for black mamba envenomation," he says._

_Jeff guesses the rest: "But not all."_

_"No. Where was she bitten?"_

_"On the leg."_

_Lakhnavi looks baffled. "Physical exam didn't turn up a wound. We'll look again when we administer the antivenom."_

_"You said a polyvalent antivenom wouldn't work."_

_A nod. "We'll dose her anyway. It might buy us an hour or two. But her prognosis is not good beyond that. The symptoms are worsening so quickly..."_

_Jeff looks at the doctor. He looks at Kat through the glass. "Do it," he says._

_Lakhnavi nods again, then returns to his patient. They're intubating her._

_Jeff watches silently. His face is impassive. His heart is sinking._

_Running footsteps in the hallway. He turns. It's Berto, out of breath from sprinting the distance between sickbay and the control room._

_"What's happening?" he asks, gasping, bracing his hands on his knees._

_Jeff disconnects from the emotional component. He recites the facts: "She just went into respiratory arrest. They think she has a few hours left. At best."_

_Horror crosses Berto's face. And fear._

_In the silence, Max's voice crackles over Berto's headset, loud and impatient: "What's Kat's status? Bro! You've gotta be to sickbay by now – come on, tell me what's going on!"_

_Jefferson holds the young agent's eyes._

_Berto understands. He takes a breath, exhales. Touches the earpiece of his headset and says steadily, "She's holding her own, Max. She's fine. Don't worry."_


	6. collapse

EARLIER

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Max didn't think. He was through with fighting Klimo; he was through with the runaway train; he was through with everything. He ran towards Klimo and, at the last moment, dropped into a slide that took him under the doctor's legs and to the edge of the train car.

He cleared the edge, his heart in his throat –

- and saw Kat laying, face-down, across the center of the coupler.

It was a miracle that she had fallen there, and not onto the tracks. It was another miracle that she _still_ hadn't fallen onto the tracks. Max decided not to count on any more miracles.

"Kat!" he called out, jumping down onto the coupler. He grabbed her just as her body started to tip over, and hauled her up to relative safety, holding her upright against him. She wasn't completely unconscious, but it was close.

Klimo appeared on the edge of the train roof, gloating down. "Your humanity makes you weak!" he hissed, smugly triumphant. "That's the advantage of being literally cold-blooded."

Max didn't want to hear it. He scowled at Klimo and shifted Kat enough to reach his biolink. "Going turbo!" he said through gritted teeth, and stomped as hard as he could on the center of the coupler.

He didn't know the technical specs of a freight car coupler – Berto probably did – but he knew they definitely weren't supposed to shear off the way this one did. _That_ was the advantage of trillions of nanoprobes.

Immediately, the car Max was on began to slow, and the engine car, with Klimo, continued to go ahead at full speed.

Klimo was left standing on the roof of the engine, looking as irate as a cold-blooded snakeman could. He raised his fists, raging, "Next time you won't be ssso lucky!"

Rookie villain mistake; Psycho would've seen that trick coming.

"Unh," Kat said, trying to support herself. "That sucked."

"Hold still," Max told her. He let her stand on her own, but kept a good grip on her arm, just in case she collapsed again. He also kept his eye on the receding shape of Klimo and the engine, because, rookie villain or not, he was smart enough to do the math: One down, one to go.

But Kat was going to be okay. She was just… overheated. Sure. Sunstroke. Happened all the time.

The train crawled to stop over several agonizing minutes. Max came out of turbo and waited for as long as possible before he leapt to the rocky, sandy ground, hoping the slower speed would make the jump easier on Kat.

He landed fine, but even with his support, her knees buckled and she collapsed to the dirt.

She groaned again and rolled to her back, one hand shielding her eyes from the sun. Sweat gleamed on her skin, which had taken on an unnatural pallor – except for two fever-bright spots of color on her cheeks. She looked like death warmed over. He knelt down beside her. "Kat! What happened? Are you okay?"

"I might not be a hundred percent," she admitted, not removing her hand from her face.

That admission of weakness alarmed Max more than anything else. He stood, looking around the desert as if he expected Klimo to come hissing and snarling out of the hot blue sky. "Berto! What's going on?"

Silence on Berto's end for a long, long moment. Then: "Max… I… I think she's been bitten."

"No," he said. "No way! When? Back at the farm? I checked her leg – there was nothing there!"

"I don't – I didn't see anything either, but – there's not much else it could be." Berto hesitated again, then said, "If his bite is as venomous as I think it might be…"

"Don't say it," Max said. "She didn't get bitten."

Kat tried to push herself up onto her elbows and quit halfway there, flopping back down to the sand. "Gonna have to argue with you on that one, Steel."

"No," he said. He crouched again. "It didn't happen. We checked."

She glared at him, although it was hazier and less ferocious than usual. "I think I know when I've been –" She broke off abruptly, her words turning into an agonized noise that was somewhere between a groan and a scream, and curled into a fetal position.

"Kat!" He reached down, intending to – do _something_, he didn't know what – but halfway there his hands pulled back again. Helpless. Kat was hurt – truly injured for the first time since they'd been partners – and he didn't know what to do.

A disconnected part of his brain noted that he was panicking, and that enabled him to pull it together enough to take stock of the situation.

Okay. He had to get Kat to medical attention. "Bro, I need the Hawk. _Now_."

"Flying in!"

The Hawk came streaking in and settled into a hover a safe distance away. Its downwash kicked up a fine billow of sand and dust, but Berto was holding it steady.

Max tried to figure out the best way to get Kat to the jet. "C'mon," he said, sliding an arm around her shoulders and lifting her to her feet. They took a few steps like that, and then Kat's knees buckled. Alarmed, he caught her and swept her up into his arms, carrying her that way.

She was so much lighter than he'd expected, somehow. That was just the nanoprobes, he knew that, but suddenly the woman he was cradling seemed too… fragile.

_Please be okay_, he wanted to say, but instead he forced a light tone: "What some people won't do to go home early."

Her mouth flickered up into a smile for a half-second. Then it disappeared into a mask of agony.

He felt another flip of panic. All business, he reminded himself. "Okay, I'm bringing her in."

Jefferson's voice cut in over the biolink, saying firmly, "Sorry, Max. Klimo's capture is still the priority here. Put her in the Hawk and Berto will bring her home by remote."

He looked down at her. _Death warmed over_. "But –"

"You have a job to do." Jefferson's tone softened slightly as he added, "We'll take care of her, son."

Max didn't like it, but he knew better than to press the argument. And his dad was right: someone had to catch Biocon before the madman endangered anyone else.

He placed Kat in the Hawk's back seat and secured the harness around her, making sure it was locked tight. Then he stepped back, relinquishing control – reluctantly – and said, "Drive carefully, bro."

"Count on it," Berto said in his ear.

The Hawk's engines powered up and lifted the jet to a better height, kicking up more sand on the way, then switched over from vertical propulsion to horizontal. It streaked west, toward Del Oro Bay and N-Tek headquarters. Where there were doctors waiting. Where Kat would be okay.

Max stayed where he was, tracking its progress until it was out of range of normal vision.

"All business," he said under his breath.

He set off at a good, steady run along the train tracks. With the nanoprobes active, he could run for miles without any fatigue, and it would be a lot faster than waiting for Berto to send out some other kind of transport. The only concern was his transphasic energy level – but he was at ninety-nine percent and holding. No problems there.

Time to quit worrying and start busting snakemen.


	7. insoluble

NOW

.

_They're running out of time._

_Lakhnavi administers the antivenom while Jefferson and Berto watch. _

_"If it's going to help, she should start improving right away," Lakhnavi says, stepping back from Kat's hospital bed._

_He returns to her side when she goes into respiratory arrest again, less than five minutes later. Jefferson and Berto are pushed out into the hallway once more._

_They're running out of time._

_"We need a Plan B," Jefferson says._

_"Already on it, sir," Berto says. He puts his headset back on and takes a deep breath. "He's going to kill me…"_

_The med team stabilizes Kat. Lakhnavi comes out into the hall. _

_"It's not working," Jefferson says. A statement, not a question._

_Lakhnavi shakes his head. Looks tired. "We need to build our own antivenom."_

_In the background, Berto is talking to Max over the biolink; Jefferson hears fragments. "…a Hawk closing on your position... need a sample..."_

_"Walk me through the process," Jefferson says to Lakhnavi. _

_"We have to get a venom sample, analyze it, and then synthesize the antivenom."_

_"She is!" Berto exclaims, one hand on his earpiece and wincing at what is obviously a lie. "But… um, we're going to want it, and…"_

_"Hold on," Jefferson says to Lakhnavi. To Berto: "Give me that." He puts out his hand for the headset. Hears his son's outraged voice demanding, "Berto!"_

_Jefferson says flatly, coldly, "Max. Get a sample of Biocon's venom and send it home in the Hawk."_

_He knows Max will argue. He doesn't have time to hear it. He gives the headset back to Berto and returns his attention to Lakhnavi. "How long will it take to synthesize a large enough dose?"_

_"On the equipment you have here? Twenty minutes."_

_"How long will it take to analyze the venom?"_

_"Twelve hours. Minimum."_

_"How long does she have?"_

_Lakhnavi doesn't flinch away. He meets Jefferson's gaze square on, which Jefferson respects. "One hour. Maximum."_

_They're running out of time._


	8. cornered

EARLIER

.

Max found the train engine nine or ten miles further down the track. It was stopped, and, when he checked, sitting empty under the blazing desert sun.

"Where'd you go?" he muttered. He climbed out of the engine and stood off to one side, looking around the landscape, feeling frustration and anger threatening to wreck the all-business zen he'd finally been able to achieve.

He was great at urban operations – not so much at the wilderness stuff. He couldn't see anything aside from rocks, sand, and distant mountains.

More loudly, he said, "Bro! You there?"

"Always."

Even though he knew it was way too soon, he couldn't help but ask. "Kat. Is she there?"

"Her Hawk is inbound and should be landing in the next ten minutes. Jefferson's scrambled a medical team to meet her in the hangar. She'll be okay, Max."

He took a breath and refocused. "I found the train, but there's no sign of Biocon. Got anything on the satellites?"

Computer keys clicked faintly in the background, and then Berto said, frustrated, "Negative. They can tell me if a penny lying on a street corner is heads or tails, but the Southwest is a pretty big street corner."

"I'll keep looking. And bro, the second she lands –"

"I'll head straight to sickbay," Berto promised.

Max wasn't satisfied, but he trusted Berto to keep him in the loop. "Looks like I'm doing this the old-fashioned way," he said, picking a direction at random and zooming in with his vision. No satellites? Okay. Back to mark-one-eyeball.

The desert, of course, wasn't just sand and rocks. Stubby desert plants dotted the landscape as well. His eyes skimmed over a cluster of joshua trees – and then flicked back. There was something caught on the spiky leaves. Something translucent and fluttering and definitely not a natural desert feature.

He zeroed in on it further. Shed snakeskin, and a fair-sized piece of it, too.

Max jogged to the tree and (reluctantly) touched the snakeskin. It was too big by far to have come from a regular snake. And it seemed to have been on a creature that had five fingers.

_Gee, I wonder if that's __**our**__ giant snake._

No. All business. He shook it off and looked around to see if Biocon had left any other calling cards.

Nothing, nothing, nothing… and then he spotted another telltale flutter about a third of a mile south.

"Not exactly the yellow brick road," he said. But.

He set off in that direction, crossing his fingers the entire time that when he got there, he'd be able to find another trailmarker. And indeed, although the snakeskin flags seemed to have petered out, the sand was thick enough that Biocon was now leaving an obvious trail.

He scanned ahead but didn't see the scientist. Just how big a head start did Biocon have, anyway? And speaking of time –

"Berto?" he said. "What's the 411 on Kat? She's there, right? How's she doing?"

"Hold on," Berto said, out of breath.

Max waited impatiently. He knew Berto didn't have super-speed, or even a habit of regular jogging, but come on – this was life or death. For sure Berto could put some hustle into it.

He started following Biocon's tracks. "What's Kat's status? Bro! You've gotta be to sickbay by now – come on, tell me what's going on!"

There was a long moment of silence. Max was opening his mouth to make another demand when Berto said, calm and steady, "She's holding her own, Max. She's fine. Don't worry."

That was a relief. "Okay, I've got Biocon's trail. I'm going after him, and then we're coming in."

"Great!" Berto said. "Uh, I'll let you know if anything – if anything changes."

"Okay," Max said again. He pushed his worries over his partner aside, and for the next few minutes was totally focused on the trail in front of him. It seemed like Biocon was working ever closer to the mountains._ That_ couldn't be good.

As he was mulling over the potential problems a mountain chase would create, Berto cleared his throat and said, "Max, there's a Hawk closing on your position right now. We're, um, going to need a sample of Biocon's venom ASAP."

"Why?" Max demanded. "I thought you said Kat was okay?"

"She is!" Berto said quickly – way too quickly. "But… um, we're going to want it, and…"

Max had begun to slow down as he talked. But now he put on the brakes completely. It was less about concentration and more about the cold, sick feeling threatening to kick him into panic again. "Berto. She's okay, right?"

Silence over the biolink.

_No. No, no, __**no**__. _

He reached for the "all business" motto and came up empty. "Berto!"

Instead of Berto, his dad's voice came over the biolink, as ironclad and forceful as it had ever been. "Max. Get a sample of Biocon's venom and send it home in the Hawk."

Max looked around at the empty desert. "How am I supposed to do _that_?"

Berto came back on the line: "Um… If you can get him to bite down on the collection dish, that would work."

"Great," he said. Anger flared, unexpected and hot. He wasn't really mad at Berto, or his dad. At the same time, he was furious with them. He didn't bother to hide it: "And after I do that, it's world peace and ice cream for everyone."

"Max –"

"I'll get it," he said. "Don't worry. How long…?"

"The faster the better," Berto said. "It's going to take hours for us to analyze the venom. She might not – um, she might not have much longer than that."

Just then, a Hawk screeched overhead and pulled a sharp U-turn, coming to rest in a hover a few feet off the ground to Max's left. The canopy retracted with a snap, and Max went over to see what Berto had sent him.

A round blue container the size of the palm of his hand was sitting on the front seat. He picked it up. A layer of thin, pliable mesh covered the top; it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that was where he was supposed to get Biocon to bite it.

First he had to catch up with the guy. He checked his t-juice level and found it basically unchanged. Time for some turbo.

Max ran. The terrain got rougher and rockier as the mountains got closer, until finally he was climbing rather than running. Biocon's trail petered out among the rocks – but Max could see a triangular black scar on the face of the mountain. It had to be a cave, and that's what Biocon had to be aiming for.

Klimo had probably been in this area before, gathering creepy-crawlies for his little barn sideshow. If so, he had some serious home court advantage.

Max slowed down as he approached the cave mouth. It was pitch-black dark inside – perfect for a clever snakeman planning an ambush.

Luckily, he had an app for that.

Max switched to infrared sight. Everything the sun touched was white-hot; he winced until the nanoprobes compensated and dialed the intensity down a bit. The cave interior was a deep purple-black… with a white-and-yellow man-sized blob smack in the middle.

"Gotcha," he murmured, going back to regular vision. He closed the last few yards and was just about to enter the cave when he heard the ominous buzz of way, way too many angry rattlesnakes.

A quick look inside revealed the cave had hanging stalactites, jagged stalagmites, and wall-to-wall snake carpeting.

Dark cave, tens of thousands of snakes, and a mad scientist with a skin problem. Max shook his head. This mission just kept getting better and better.

_All business._

He hit infrared again, the better to keep Biocon in sight in the darkness, and judged the distance between him and the snake-free back of the cave to be jumpable.

He backed up a little to get a running start, and thought about dropping into stealth mode, but – why bother?

He ran and jumped, kicking off one of the curving cave walls to get that extra few feet of distance, and landed right behind Biocon.

"What's up, doc?" he said, straightening and taking a fighting stance as Biocon whirled around, looking exactly like the panicked rookie bad guy he was. "Don't be too hard on yourself – all the supervillains get busted their first time out. You should've seen what happened to Vitriol."

The scaly protuberances over Biocon's eyes, where Dr. Klimo used to have eyebrows, lowered into a facsimile of a scowl. "You're persssissstent," he rasped. "That'sss very irritating."

"No time to chat," Max said, trying not to glance behind him. Either he was hearing things, or the rattlesnake buzz was getting louder… and he didn't think he was hearing things. "You bit my partner, so now I'm gonna need a sample of your venom to save her."

Biocon hissed. Or maybe he was laughing; it was hard to tell. "You're confusssed. Venom'sss not for sssaving livesss – it'sss for_ taking _them."

Part of being "all business" was not wanting to bash a guy's head into the cave wall. Max was failing "all business" left, right, and center.

And the rattlesnakes were definitely ratcheting things up to the next level. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw dark shapes slithering closer. Something bumped against his feet just as Biocon declared, "But if venom isss what you want… venom isss what you shall have!"


	9. inspiration

NOW

.

_Jefferson doesn't want to slight Dr. Amir Lakhnavi. The man is talented, experienced, and a world-class expert in his field. But he isn't a miracle worker._

_Dr. Roberto Martinez, on the other hand, has a track record._

_"Berto," Jefferson says. He has his back to sickbay. He doesn't want to see the hourglass running out. "We need a shortcut. Kat doesn't have twelve hours to wait for an analysis."_

_Berto looks crestfallen. "Sir… there's no way around it. The genetic material has to be broken down, amplified, and sequenced. It's not just plugging things into the computer. Even when we have the final DNA profile, we'll probably have to pick it apart protein-by-protein to more precisely counter the venom's effects. Otherwise… it'll be like fighting a five-alarm fire by throwing snowballs at it."_

_Lakhnavi nods in grim agreement._

_Jefferson looks at the agent lying in sickbay. The agent being kept alive by machines as her body burns from the inside out. Berto's right; all they can do is chuck snowballs._

_It's not enough._

_"All right," he says, heavy, conceding defeat. The words are distasteful, but he has to think like a spy boss, and not like a man watching one of his son's best friends die. "Have Max get the sample anyway. Maybe…" He sighs. "Maybe it can be used in clinical tests later." _

_Berto goes abruptly still, and his eyes widen behind his glasses._

_Jefferson waits for the miracle._

_Then -_

_"I've got it!" Berto exclaims._


	10. cliffhanger

Max had two choices.

One: Get mobbed by approximately six million angry snakes, plus Biocon.

Two: Run for it.

He was a super-powered secret agent, but he wasn't stupid.

He ran for it.

Specifically, he went turbo and darted left, down a long, twisting tunnel. He didn't know where it went – just that it was_ away_. He needed to get some distance between himself and Biocon so he could pull a solid counterattack, pin him, and get the sample. Home court advantage only went so far; Max had experience on his side.

He could do this. Mentally, he started mapping out what he would -

"I've got it!" Berto exclaimed in his ear, so loudly that it actually made him wince. "Max! Let him bite you!"

"Let him_ what?_" Max said, justifiably alarmed. The tunnel abruptly dead-ended in a large, roughly circular cavern, and he skidded to a stop, kicking up a layer of sandy dust. More stalactites and stalagmites, plus evidence of recent rockfalls, littered the cavern. Sunlight filtered in through an opening high in the cave "ceiling," giving enough light to see clearly by, so he switched off the infrared. "I thought that was a_ bad_ idea?"

"No, listen!" Berto said, urgent. "It won't hurt you. The nanoprobes will neutralize the venom, but they have to break down its molecular structure in order to do that!_ They'll_ analyze it._ They'll make the antivenom."_

A fierce hope spiked his chest. "And send all of that data…"

"Straight to the N-Tek computers. We can have a working sample in less than thirty minutes!"

If there was more, Max didn't hear it. The plan was risky and insane – possibly one of the dumbest things he'd ever do as an N-Tek agent. But if it could save his partner's life, he was all for it.

He turned to face Biocon as the snakeman arrived. Biocon was a little out of breath from trying to keep up, and it looked like he hadn't brought more than a couple of his slithering friends. Good.

Max looked around, feigning panic at being trapped.

"Dead end." Biocon spread his arms, gesturing at the cavern. "And I ssstill owe you a bite."

Max put his back to a large stalagmite and tried to look cornered. "Dr. Klimo, wait – N-Tek can help you!"

Biocon took that offer about as well as Max had expected. He positively roared,_ "I don't want your help!_ I will dessstroy you and N-Tek!"

Max braced for it. "Dr. Klimo -!"

"That'sss not who I am anymore!" Biocon opened his mouth wide, flashing his fangs. "Time to sssay goodbye!"

"Nah -" Max waited until Biocon had committed to the lunge. Then he moved his right forearm to block and – deliberately – left it there a beat too long. "I'm lousy at goodbyes."

Biocon's fangs sank in.

It hurt.

It hurt_ a lot._

Two hot knives burned into the flesh and muscle of his forearm. He jerked away, which got the fangs out, but didn't otherwise help – the burning feeling came with him. His left hand went automatically to cover the wound, and he staggered back from a gleeful Biocon, who was rasping something about the superiority of snakes. Max couldn't really hear him over the swirling, blood-red roar in his ears.

He'd lost feeling in his arm. The pain was spreading up past his shoulder now, and getting exponentially worse; it felt like his insides were turning into his outsides.

He gritted his teeth and tried to stay on his feet and ready for anything Biocon might spring on him._ Ten-for-ten… Come on, nanoprobes!_

"We're getting it!" Berto crowed in his ear. "Max, we're getting the data! Just a few more seconds!"

Suddenly the pain began to evaporate, lifting away and being replaced by nothing worse than a mild stinging sensation. Like a sunburn… back when he was still able to get sunburns. Max found himself leaning against the wall of the cavern, hunched over and breathing like he'd just run a marathon, but indisputably alive.

Eleven-for-eleven.

Biocon hissed.

Max straightened. Flush with victory (and fully-functioning nanoprobes), he couldn't help gloating. "Thanks," he said, shaking out the last tingles from his bitten arm. "I needed that."

Enraged, Biocon lunged again. This time Max dodged it without even really trying. "Like it or not, you're coming with me, ugly," he said. "You're too dangerous."

"Thanksss for the compliment." Biocon turned to the snakes who'd been waiting, coiled and hissing, and snarled, "Attack!"

Having just been bitten, Max had no desire to experience it again. He went turbo and leapt for the roof of the cavern, grabbing hold of the stalactites and using them toswing, monkey-bar style, to a less snaky area. There was a large black hole of a pit nearby – but no snakes. Max was willing to take his chances with the pit.

"We're all clear, hermano," Berto said as Max dropped to the cavern floor. "The antivenom is being synthesized right now. I'm going –"

"- to keep an eye on things," Max finished for him. Biocon was coming to join the party, fangs and claws out. "Thanks, bro. Talk to you when I get back."

"Right," Berto said, and signed off.

Max refocused on Biocon, although it wasn't really necessary. He blocked the bad guy's strikes easily and made his own at will. If he'd wanted to, he could've had Biocon cuffed and on his way back to N-Tek within seconds – but he didn't want to. He had been itching for a fight, and now he had one.

This wasn't the same guy who'd coached his Little League team. This was the guy who had nearly killed Kat. This was a dangerous monster who deserved to be put down, and put down hard.

Biocon somehow ducked the strike Max was aiming at his jaw and danced backward, putting a stalagmite in between them. He glanced around and Max read his body language: he was looking for a way out.

"Nuh-uh – we're not done yet!" Max kicked the tip of the stalagmite; it broke off and smacked Biocon in the chest with enough force to send him staggering sideways a few steps.

Angry again, Biocon made the rookie villain mistake of rushing Max instead of trying to escape.

Instinctively, with a motion practiced a thousand times in training, Max dropped a shoulder and flipped Biocon over it, turning all of that lethal momentum against the bad guy. Biocon went flying towards the pit, landed hard, and slid in the sand of the cavern floor.

Too late, Max realized that the momentum really might be lethal. It was going to carry Biocon into the pit.

Biocon managed to dig one clawed hand into the rocks at the edge as he went over – but it wasn't a permanent solution. The rocks began to crumble under his weight almost immediately.

Max threw himself forward and grabbed Biocon's arm just as the snakeman lost purchase. "Nice try, Biocon, but you're going to jail," he said.

"I don't think ssso," Biocon hissed. Audible, below the surface bravado, was real fear. Surprised, Max looked down into the pit; even in infrared, he couldn't see the bottom. If Biocon fell, he was going to die.

That changed things. Max was no killer, no matter how angry he was at the man. No matter how badly he wanted to punish him for hurting his partner and threatening the world. He couldn't let Biocon fall.

But holding onto him was harder than it sounded on paper. The scaly, ropy surface of Biocon's skin was slick, and despite his best efforts, Max's fingers started to slide.

Meanwhile, Biocon was trying, frantically, to keep his own grip on Max's wrist. That wasn't working either. Gravity pulled him inexorably downwards.

Max met the scientist's eyes without meaning to. The yellow sclera and reptilian slits of pupils didn't allow for much human emotion, but there was a sudden flash of lucidity, of calmness. For a brief second it was Dr. David Klimo hanging over the pit, not Biocon. And not the man who'd set up a secret lab to manufacture bioweapons, either; it was the Klimo who'd taught Josh McGrath how to hit a fastball and slide into home.

"Coach," Max said, not meaning to. His fingers slipped another fraction of an inch.

Klimo closed his eyes. And let go.

_"No_," Max said. He lunged for Biocon's hand -

- their fingers missed by less than an inch.

Biocon made an incoherent cry as he dropped.

Max froze where he was, uncharacteristically motionless, until he heard the heavy thwump of a body on the rocks far below.

Then he climbed to his feet and stood there for a moment, trying to process everything that had just happened. It was too much to sort through, and anyway he had a partner to check on. By the time he got home, Kat would be sitting up and ready to read him the riot act.

He was looking forward to it.

But here – here there was nothing but shadows and dust.

"Goodbye, Coach," he said, quiet and sincere. His voice echoed off the rocks, and so did the sound of his feet when he ran out of the cave.


	11. indestructible

_Jefferson Smith gets to the hangar just as the Hawk touches down._

_The normal organized chaos of the hangar is subdued. It's still full of noise and the burned-in stink of oil and ozone – but the main deck is clear. Everyone is busy finding things to do, off to one side or the other, as the news spreads._

_But the boss doesn't have the luxury of hiding._

_Jefferson watches the Hawk land and the engines spin down. The canopy opens and Max jumps down easily. _

_"Dad!" he says. Forgetting their roles. He's grinning. "Tell me the good news."_

_Jefferson looks into his son's eyes. Puts a hand on his shoulder._

_"I'm sorry, son," he says, and his heart breaks as Max's grin fades into horror. Déjà vu – they've had this moment before, a lifetime ago. Miracles don't always happen, and they both know that. But the next three words are still hard._

_"It didn't work."_

_._

_._

**END**


End file.
